


Teething

by Kita_the_Spaz



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Biting, Fluff, Hurty Sock is adorable, M/M, Teeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:11:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4482266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kita_the_Spaz/pseuds/Kita_the_Spaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were bite marks on the spine of Jonathan's math book, neat rows of imprints up and down the whole length of the book.</p>
<p>Written for prompt #981 on the w2hkinkmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teething

There were bite marks on the spine of his math book, neat rows of imprints side by side up and down the whole length of the book. Jonathan scowled at it and realized there could only be one culprit, one, surprisingly enough, he hadn’t seen all day. Though, why he had chosen gnawing on things as a new annoyance, Jonathan had no idea.

Dropping the abused math book on the kitchen table, Jonathan stalked upstairs, glad his mom was still at work and thus the house was empty, except for him and his annoying, ectoplasmic menace.

“Sock!” he snarled.

Storming into his room, Jonathan found it empty. There were plenty of signs of his personal annoyance, though, in the form of a compact disc case with more of the damning bite marks, and a place on the footboard of his bed where the dark veneer had been scratched, letting the pale wood show. Jonathan bent and took a closer look. Yep, those were tooth-marks too. Pausing, he squinted a little. On some of the marks were dark flecks, flecks that looked like blood, and blood that glowed with a sort of sickly green radiance. Jonathan knew that toxic glow, he’d seen it every time Sock phased through walls or showed off the perpetually bleeding wound in his chest.

His bathroom door was shut, and Jonathan knew he’d left it open that morning.

He ghosted up to it, silent in his stocking feet, and listened. There were muffled sounds from in the bathroom, sounds that made his heart twinge uncomfortably in his chest. TIny, hitching breaths and soft whimpers drifted through the wooden barrier.

“Sock?”

There was a scramble on the other side of the door, and Sock’s voice, oddly muffled, pleading, “Don’t come in!”

Jonathan ignored the warning and shoved the door open anyway.

Sock was hunched miserably on the back of the toilet, his feet on the closed lid. A wad of bloodstained tissue was pressed against his mouth.

“What the hell happened?” Jonathan wasn’t sure anything could harm a demon, but Sock looked all kinds of miserable.

Wide green eyes turned into pools of wretchedness. Sock pulled his hat down with the hand not holding the tissue and hunched a little further into himself.

Jonathan frowned. “Sock, you’re bleeding. Tell me what happened.”

A small voice, full of misery, finally answered, faint behind muffling layers of tissue. “My teeth hurt.”

Jonathan thought of his chewed math book and the mangled end of his bed. “Yeah, well... chewing on random things will tend to do that. What are you, part-goat now?”

Sock glowered at him as well as one could through a mouth full of bloody toilet paper. “No.” He lapsed back into silence.

Jonathan realized Sock was not going to say anything else on the matter without prodding. “An explanation would be nice.” He reached over and began to peel Sock’s hand and the mouthful of bloodied tissue away.

Sock struggled, turning his face away. “Let go!”

Jonathan gripped Sock’s chin and forced the smaller boy to face him.

The teeth revealed when he pulled the tissue away looked broken and jagged and there were bits of white enamel flecking Sock’s lips. “What the...?”

Sock hunched back down in abject misery. “The boss said my fangs would start coming in soon, he didn’t say it would hurt this much!” Sock whined, low in his throat.

Jonathan blinked and took a closer look. Sure enough, the white flecks were bits of Sock’s old teeth, being broken and shoved loose by the rapidly emerging mouthful of serrated fangs.

Jonathan filled the glass on the sink with the coldest water the tap could produce. “Here. Rinse and spit.”

Sock flinched. “That will hurt.”

“Dumbass,” Jonathan scolded. “The cold will help numb it. You do that and I’ll go downstairs and get you some ice.”

Reluctantly, Sock took the glass.

When Jonathan was sure Sock would do as he was told, he went downstairs to fetch a baggie full of crushed ice. Wrapping it in a washcloth from the linen closet, he returned to his bathroom to find Sock examining his slightly-less bloody mouth in the mirror, floating so close his nose was practically smushed against the glass. He looked ridiculous, tugging out one side of his mouth to examine his teeth.

Jonathan chuckled, handing him the ice pack. “Here, this will help.”

Sock took the ice pack, “Thank you, Jonathan.”

Jonathan patted him on the shoulder. “Yeah, well you look all kinds of miserable in pain,” he scolded lightly. “Some demon.”

Sock snorted and suddenly dropped out of the air to wrap his arms around Jonathan’s neck. “Still, thanks.”

Jonathan cautiously patted the top of Sock’s head, a little uncomfortable with Sock clinging to him. He could feel Sock’s lips, cold from the ice, against the curve where his neck met shoulder.

Suddenly, those lips warmed and moved against his skin, pressing and suckling.

Jonathan gasped, trying to escape the sudden bolt of heat pooling in his stomach. “Sock, what the hell...?”

Sock mouthed his throat, clinging so tight there was no escape. “You taste good.”

Face burning, Jonathan tried to shove Sock’s head away. “Seriously, dude, get off me.”

Something wet dragged against his skin and Jonathan stiffened. “S-Sock!”

Sock rumbled against his neck, a sound somehow far too deep for the small frame. 

Jonathan shivered, the sound making his knees wobble. Newly-sharp teeth pressed into his neck, just hard enough to draw blood. Hissing, he flinched away from the sting. “Ow! Dammit, Sock! You bit me!”

Sock pulled back, a cheshire smirk growing, made all the more unnerving by the mouth full of fangs. “Yes,” he breathed, eyes deep pools of verdant green. “And guess what? My mouth doesn’t hurt anymore.” He ducked his head and dragged his lips across the purpling bruise. “I think I found the perfect cure.”

Jonathan yelped and shuddered as those teeth pressed against the tender side of his neck again, but lacked either the strength or the will to shove Sock away.

He had to wear a high-necked shirt to school the next day. His neck looked like so much raw meat, but he couldn’t regret it, not when, all day, Sock kept fixing him with that cheshire grin and running his tongue over pointed fangs.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not ashamed.


End file.
